


Racing Thoughts With a Poetic Mind

by Reddie_Set_Write



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), M/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 21:12:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13889223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reddie_Set_Write/pseuds/Reddie_Set_Write
Summary: Richie never thought of himself as artistic, that was Ben and Bill's thing. He thinks his work is complete trash, even though Ben and his favourite teacher tell him otherwise. After a night at the quarry with the other losers, his work gets discovered and appreciated by the last person Richie wanted.





	Racing Thoughts With a Poetic Mind

It was hard to know what Richie Tozier was thinking about at any point in time; even he didn’t know what he was thinking about or saying half of the time. He could go from talking about school to a random rock he saw last week within seconds, and this sometimes confused the hell out of his friends. He didn’t blame them though, he confused himself as well. It surprised everyone outside of his inner circle that he was a straight A student and was in academic courses because his racing thoughts also had the habit of racing out of his mouth. The majority of his teachers didn’t like him, since he always shouted and made jokes in class, but they had to give him credit, he was an amazing student. The only teacher that could handle and actually liked Richie was Mrs. Jamie, who was his English teacher. Before the holiday break in grade 9, she had given him a leather journal and told him to fill it with his thoughts over the break. At first he thought it was a stupid and nerdy idea to write out his thoughts, but as the school break came into full swing he found himself sitting at his desk writing out his thoughts every night. He found it helpful and allowed him to get everything off of his chest in a way that made sense.

When the break was over he brought the notebook to school and stayed late that day to show Mrs. Jamie what he had written. She smiled sweetly and told Richie that she was proud of him, that she liked that he found it helpful. Richie would continue to buy notebooks and fill them with his thoughts into his 3rd year of highschool, which is when he had Mrs. Jamie again, but this time it was in his Creative Writing class. She had convinced Richie to sign up for the class, saying that he would enjoy it and that he’d excel in it. Stan and Bill had laughed when he told the losers what class he had for fourth period, but Eddie, Mike, and Bev were impressed; Ben was excited that he would have a friend in that class and not have to sit alone. 

Richie never considered himself to be an artistic person in any way; that was Bill and Ben’s thing, not his. However, when they got to the poetry unit, Richie found that while others struggled to find the words they wanted to use, he found it easy. The words would spill from his thoughts and onto the page, writing several stanzas of pure gold. Ben was blown away and made Richie read every poem to him, whether it was about the weather or his deep night thoughts. Ben had told Richie that he should share some of his writings with the class, but Richie would always refuse, saying that his thoughts were only for those that he trusted.

Poetry slowly began to fill up Richie’s notebooks that were once only filled with crazed chicken scratch. His poems were organized and neatly written, therefore his thoughts also became organized. He was able to control his outbursts a lot better and wasn’t nearly as jumpy during conversations, though his exaggerated hand gestures and dramatics didn’t change. His friends didn’t know what had caused the change, since he kept his notebooks and writings a secret, but they never said anything about it, they were just happy that Richie appeared to be happier.

When the losers entered 12th grade, Richie’s poetry became centred around one subject, which became the main reason as to why he kept his poetry a secret. Richie had dated several people over the course of highschool, but he had only loved one person, and those feelings began to boil at the start of grade 12. Eddie Kaspbrak, Eds, his Eddie Spaghetti. This boy was all Richie could think about when the sun set and the night filled up with stars. He’d think about his neatly gelled hair, his collared shirts, his cologne, the way he walked, the tone of his voice and how high it’d get when he was angry or upset. Richie found himself writing about Eddie’s smile, his eyes, and the way his cheeks puffed out when he’d get frustrated. Richie was consumed by the idea of the shorter boy, and his newest notebook was the proof of that; though, if you looked at his previous notebooks, even the original leather journal he had been given by Mrs. Jamie, you’d find several pages written about Eddie. Richie’s old writings about Eddie could range anywhere from something funny he had said to how cute he looked during a school dance. It wasn’t obvious to Richie during the time of those writings, but now when Richie looked back he’d think “Damn, I’m really all in aren’t I?”

Richie sat quietly in his desk chair, scribbling down words that raced from his mind to the page. The sun had just set, but Richie’s mind was running wild. Thoughts swirled around his head and dumped onto the desk like an ocean wave. 

‘Your eyes may be dark like the winter’s night sky,  
But they shine brighter than the stars.  
I am like the moon, alone and cold,  
Lucky to be in the same realm as you.’

Richie smiled unconsciously, not noticing that rocks were being thrown at his window until a large one was thrown, making a loud thump. Richie looked up from his notebook and leaned over to get a glimpse out his window. Mike and Bill had several rocks in their hands and smiled when they noticed that Richie was looking. Richie sighed and opened up his window.

“What the hell are you guys doing?”

“Come to the quarry with us, everyone is already there” Mike said as he put down the rocks he was holding.

“Why?”

“Be-Because it’s a Friday. Did yo-you forget?”

Oh. Right.

Shit.

Richie sighed and turned to look at his opened bedroom door. Surly his parents were still up, but there was no way they’d let him go on such a short notice.

“Alright, hold on.”

Richie got out of his chair and went to his closet. He pulled on a pair of old sneakers and pulled on his red hoodie, just incase he got the chills. He walked over to his desk and kneeled on top of it, throwing open his window entirely.

“Mike, my boy, please be ready to catch me if I slip.”

Mike chuckled and rolled his eyes, but he nodded anyway.

Richie slide himself out of his window and grabbed hold of the outer window frame. He slowly climbed down the side of his house and dropped down, sticking the landing. 

“A-Are you going to get your bi-bike?”

Richie shook his head.

“Nah, I’ll just walk alongside ya. Let’s get going.”

***

“What the hell took you guys so long?” Bev asked as the three boys emerged from the tree line.

“Richie for-forgot and had to sneak out so he didn’t gr-grab his bike.”

Bev shook her head and hit Richie playfully.

“You’re so fucking stupid.”

Richie put his hands up as if to surrender.

“Yeah yeah whatever. I’m here aren’t I?”

“Yeah, and it was a lot better when you weren’t.”

Richie smiled at Stan, who was sitting on a nearby rock huddled around the small fire that he probably got started. Richie placed his hands on his chest and took in a heavy short breath.

“You wound me Stanley. I’m bleeding.”

“Die quieter would ya?”

Stan laughed at his own remark. Richie walked over to him and pretended to push him off the rock, yelling at Stan as he did so, causing Stan to laugh harder.

“Children could you please shut up?” Bev said as she took a seat on the ground next to Ben.

Richie smirked and sat down on the ground, leaning his back against Stan’s rock. Bill sat on the other side of Stan and smiled when Mike sat next to him.

“Where’s Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie asked.

“He’s getting water for the-”

“Don’t call me that!”

Eddie walked up from the lake, holding a plastic water bottle filled with murky water. He tossed it to Mike at sat next to Richie.

“Wow, we’ll definitely be able to put out a forest fire with that. Thanks Smokey The Bear!”

“Oh shut up Trashmouth! I don’t see you carrying around a bucket!”

“Children, I said shut the fuck up!”

The losers fell silent, listening to the crickets sing and the frogs croak. Richie’s hands were fidgeting and his legs were bouncing, but other than that he was completely silent, looking up at the dark sky. Eddie poked his cheek and smiled playfully when Richie shot him a look and stuck his tongue out. The fire cracked and sparks flew, the gentle breeze carrying them towards the lake.

“As the fire cracks and the night wind blows,   
I find myself feeling at home.”

“Is that a line for your assignment?” Richie asked.

Ben nodded.

“The fire dances to the moon light song, wishing to be and only to see the stars.   
The hum of the earth sings it to sleep, allowing the dance to just simply be.  
I feel most at peace when the fire dances and the earth sings to me.”

Mike smiled. After a long pause Eddie cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention towards him.

“How come we never hear any of your work Richie?” Eddie asked quietly.

Richie’s hands continued to fidget.

“My stuff isn’t as good as good ol’ Ben’s work.”

“You’re kidding right?” Ben laughs, “Your stuff is pure gold Richie.”

Richie shakes his head.

“Nah, my stuff is a bunch of junk.”

“I bet you’re just embarrassed” Stan said jokingly.

Richie forced a laugh.

“What do you write about Richie? Betty’s ass?”

Richie shot Bev a glare.

“Hell no, and even if I did, there isn’t much to go on.”

The losers laughed, only to fall back into silence.

“What do you write about Richie?” Eddie asked.

Richie smiled.

“Why, I write about you my dear Eds” Richie said as he wiggled his eyebrows.

The losers groaned in annoyance. Eddie’s cheeks flushed bright red and Richie made a mental note to write about it later.

“I’m being serious Richie! I’m sure your writing is great.”

Richie smiled sincerely. “I was being serious too” Richie though as he leaned against Eddie.

“Thanks my Spaghetti, but flattery won’t get you any closer to seeing my shitty school work.”

“But Ben has seen it!”

“Then Ben can tell you what I write about.”

Ben laughed.

“His most recent poem during free write was about honey.”

“See? I told you Eds, I write about you.”

Eddie shoved Richie off of him, causing the others to laugh. Richie smiled as he rubbed the back of his neck.

***

“My mom is seriously going to kill me when I get home! I’m fucking soaked!” Eddie complained as he walked with Bill and Richie.

“We-Well you started it!” Bill said as he walked Silver down the dimly lit road.

“No I didn’t! It was Bev!”

“Girls could you stop screaming? You’re going to wake up the entire town.”

“S-Says the Tr-Trashmouth.”

Bill soon went his own way, hopping onto Silver and pedaling home as fast as he could, leaving Richie and Eddie to walk by themselves. Eddie walked his bike beside Richie, not wanting to leave him to walk by himself.

“My mom is seriously going to kill me…”

Richie smiled.

“If you want you can borrow some of my clothes?”

“No offence Richie, but I’m sure my mom would notice if I went home smelling like cigarettes and your cologne. Plus, I would be swimming in your clothes.”

Richie laughed.

“I guess so.”

They walked in silence for awhile until Eddie spoke again.

“Actually, could I just stay the night?”

Richie nodded.

“I don’t see why not.”

The lights at the Tozier residence were all shut off when Richie and Eddie arrived. Richie went into the landscaping and lifted up a rock, revealing a hidden extra key. Richie unlocked the front door and put the key in his sweater pocket. He instructed Eddie to follow him quietly up the stairs, who had left his bike besides Richie’s garage, and led him into his disastrous bedroom.

“Don’t mind the mess” Richie said, already knowing Eddie was shaking his head.

“I honestly don’t know how you survive in this.”

“Sometimes I ask myself the same question” Richie said with a shrug as he kicked off his old shoes.

“Honestly Richie. This place looks worse than Mike’s barn. You’re lucky Stan isn’t here, he’d kick the shit out of you.”

Richie snorted.

“I can’t argue with that.”

Eddie sat down on Richie’s bed as Richie dug through his dresser, looking for a pair of clean pajamas for Eddie.

“Here. I know these are clean because I washed them yesterday.”

Richie threw Eddie a black short sleeved shirt and a pair of grey and white plaid pants. He grabbed himself an orange sweatshirt that he had slept in the night before and took off this red hoodie and white shirt. He pulled the sweatshirt over his head and slipped off his jeans, digging out a pair of pajama pants and pulling them on. He turned back to face Eddie and sat on the floor, leaning against his closet door. Eddie had put on the pajamas and had thrown his clothes on the floor, adding to Richie’s mess. Eddie was right about swimming in Richie’s clothes; he looked like a small child playing dress up.

“Do you want something to eat or drink?”

“Um, just water please” Eddie said as he looked around the room.

“Cool. I’ll be right back.”

Richie walked out of his room and crept downstairs. He entered the kitchen and grabbed a cup, filling it up with cold water from the fridge. “Hey, did you ever put your notebook away?” Richie’s mind swam at the thought. His eyes widened when he realized he didn’t. He ran back up the stairs, holding the cup of water. He went into his room and saw Eddie leaning over his desk.

Shit.

Richie’s heart was beating in his ears as he watched Eddie for a moment before he cleared his throat, causing Eddie to jump slightly. Eddie’s head whipped around to face Richie, his cheeks completely flushed red. The two stared at each other for a moment before Richie tilted his head and lifted up the cup.

“Your drink my lord.” Richie said with a forced british accent, his voice surprisingly calm.

Eddie blinked a few times before he nodded and sat on the bed, extending his hands towards the cup when Richie walked towards him. Richie gave him the cup with calm hands, though his mind was racing. “Did he see it?” “Of course he did, that’s why he’s so red.” “Does he know its about him?” “Maybe not.” “Maybe so.” “Why is he looking at me like that?” “Do his eyes always sparkle like that when he looks at me?” “No.” “I don’t think so.” “Maybe I can jump out the window and land on my head and die.” “Now now, no need to sound like Stan.”

“Richie?”

“Hm?”

“Is that… is that your writing?”

Richie stared at Eddie for a while before he signed an sat on his desk chair.

“Uh, yeah…”

Eddie smiled shyly. 

“It’s nice.”

Richie smiled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Haha thanks.”

“Can you read it to me?”

Richie’s eyes widened and his hands began to fidget.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to. Please?”

Richie sighed. He couldn’t say no when Eddie was looking at him like that, with his pretty little smile and his sparkling eyes.

“Uhhhh, suuure.”

Richie picked up his notebook and pushed up his glasses. He swallowed the lump in his throat and coughed.

“How does one describe those who are indescribable?   
With comparisons to flowers or to the beauty of the sunrise?  
Or does one simply let them be, unable to imagine what their beauty could be?  
With you it is easy, but not because your beauty is less than what I have seen.  
Your smile is wider than the ocean itself  
Deep and meaningful, full of mystery.  
I wish to be the reason for it  
And to dive deep.  
The atmosphere around you is always warm and bright  
And it keeps me grounded on my darkest nights.  
When the sky in my head is falling and all I can do is hold tight  
You’re the one I hold onto.  
Your eyes may be dark like the winter’s night sky,  
But they shine brighter than the stars.  
I am like the moon, alone and cold,  
Lucky to be in the same realm as you.”

Richie cleared his throat and licked his lips. He looked at Eddie, whose eyes were wide. His mouth was opened slightly and his face was pink.

“Who is it about?” Eddie asked after several beats of silence.

Richie pressed his lips together and put his notebook down on his desk.

“Ha, uh, you wouldn’t like it if I told you.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Just tell me.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Richie just tell me!”

“No.”

“Richie!”

“No!”

“Please!”

Richie cracked his knuckles and bit the inside of his cheek.

“Fine! It’s… It’s about you.”

Eddie’s face became more red. His mouth parted slightly, but no sound came out. Richie watched him cautiously, looking for angry or any other negative feeling, though he was unsuccessful in finding anything like that.

“Me?”

Richie nodded, not trusting his voice to remain calm.

“But I… I thought you only liked… Richie I-”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I write stuff so I don’t annoy anyone with my thoughts, s-so it’s okay.”

Richie mentally kicked himself for allowing his voice to break. Eddie put his cup of water on the floor and abruptly shot up off the bed, walking swiftly towards Richie. He sat on Richie’s lap, knocking the wind out of Richie because he wasn’t expecting it. Eddie pressed his lips against Richie’s roughly. Richie’s eyes widened, and Eddie pulled away quickly, looking at Richie closely. Richie blinked a few times before he hesitantly cupped Eddie’s face, gently rubbed circles into Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie draped his arms around Richie’s neck as his cheeks became darker. Richie smirked and pressed his lips against Eddie’s. The kiss was more gentle when compared to their first, but neither of them would change a thing about it. When Richie pulled away Eddie whimpered, but was completely love struck; if it was possible for your eyes to turn into hearts, Eddie was sure his eyes would, and he now understood what Richie’s ex girlfriends were talking about when they said Richie always left them breathless. He never knew Richie could be so gentle, so careful.

Richie’s cheeks were pink, and he laughed slightly at Eddie’s expression. They pressed their lips against each others again. Richie licked and nibbled on Eddie’s bottom lip, causing Eddie to blush even harder and smile. When they pulled away, Eddie was sure he was as red as a tomato, and Richie was sure he looked like one too.

“Can… Can I have the poem?” Eddie asked breathlessly.

Richie smiled and nodded.

“In the morning, I’ll give it to you.”

Eddie smiled and kissed Richie again, getting his hands lost his Richie’s curly locks.

**Author's Note:**

> This is really bad but that's okay, and I hope you all enjoyed it anyway. The poetry was written by me, which is why is sucks but just pretend it's good okay? okay.


End file.
